


Dahlia

by xDeathMelodiesx



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: 1940s, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - 1940s, Black Dahlia - Freeform, Black Dahlia Murder, Frerard, M/M, Murder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-17
Updated: 2019-11-17
Packaged: 2021-02-08 02:06:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21468295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xDeathMelodiesx/pseuds/xDeathMelodiesx
Summary: Set in the 1940s, Gerard Way steps off the bus into LA after three years away, under the alias of Elizabeth Short. He lives a normal life, working at a diner and dating the man of his dreams. Only problem is he’s gay and a man dressed in woman’s clothes, both of which are illegal and both of which he hasn’t told Frank. A secret is unveiled and Gerard is brutally murdered, the case now known as The Black Dahlia Murder.
Relationships: Frank Iero/Gerard Way
Comments: 3
Kudos: 13





	Dahlia

I jumped off the bus, ecstatic to be back here in Los Angeles. It looked exactly like it had three years ago: bustling streets and crisp air, cars and people traveling and faint music drifting through my ears. A smile formed on my painted red lips as I took in the scenery, watching people pass by. 

Tall buildings towered over me, signs flashed and colors surrounded me. People in dresses, skirts and suits walked down the street, all having a clear purpose, judging by the confident way most were walking. Of course, there were a few who walked hunched over, as if they were off to do something wrong or didn’t know where they were going. It was all so beautiful. 

Looking around, I spotted the bar I was arrested at three years ago. Underage drinking, I got caught and the authorities had me taken back to Massachusetts but I moved to Florida; I didn’t want to go back home. At least, not that easily. Now I was back, determined to stay here and make it big. I wanted to be a star, to make my name known amongst the people of the world. But for now, I was here to visit a dear friend, Lieutenant Ray Toro, who was stationed at the Navel Reserve Air Base.

Smoothing my black satin dress and fluffing my heavily styled hair, I hailed a cab, climbed into the nearest one and told the driver to take me to Ray’s address. I quickly rummaged through my matching purse for spare change, silently sighing in relief when I found a dollar and some quarters. 

“So where’s a pretty dame like you headed? Off to see a husband?” The driver asked in a thick accent that I couldn’t pinpoint. 

I inwardly cringed when I was referred to as a lady but hid it under a fake, sweet little giggle. “Oh no, I’m seeing a close friend who’s stationed there. My fiancé died in a plane crash last year and I’m just not ready to seek out someone else just yet.” A partial lie. Yes, my fiancé died in a plane crash shortly after he proposed but I was over the grief now. Otherwise I wouldn’t be here.

He looked at me sympathetically in the mirror, “Well, terribly sorry for your loss ma’am. Say, I’ll knock off 10 cents for ya, my treat.”

I smiled, thanked him and fell into silence as the ride continued. Faces on the streets blurred, colors mixing together like a messy painting. It was beautiful and it looked like quick, clean and short brush strokes painted across the world outside the window, as if Van Gogh himself had painted it. Eventually I spotted the house numbers as we slowed down, eagerly pointing at Ray’s house. The driver stopped outside and I handed him a dollar. “Keep the change,” I said with a sweet, charming and fake smile. 

The cab took off after I closed the door, leaving me on the sidewalk in front. My heels clicked with every step as I walked up the concrete stairs and knocked on the wooden door, standing with my arms behind my back, rocking back and forth on the balls of my feet. The door opened and there was Ray, bright, twinkling eyes and bushy, curly hair, still dressed in his khaki uniform. 

He looked into my eyes, seeing everything beneath the makeup I wore and his deep brown eyes widened. “Gerard? Oh my god, is that you?”

“Shh! Don’t blow my cover! But yes, it’s me, Gerard, the one and only.”

He gawked at me and I awkwardly looked around, peering behind him. 

“Sooo... can I come in?” I asked.

Ray seemed to snap out of it and stuttered while he held the door open, still staring at me. I clicked my tongue in mock disapproval, “Tsk tsk tsk, oh Raymond, didn’t your mother ever tell you not to stare? Especially at the ladies?”

Red blush filled his cheeks and he looked away as I giggled. 

“It’s okay, I already know I’m pretty.”

He rolled his eyes at me and invited me to sit down. I lowered myself onto the cushions of his couch, keeping my legs together and delicately resting my hands on my knees. Ray sat parallel to me, still looking me over, his eyes raking over my figure. I smirked, delighted at the fact that he couldn’t take his eyes off me. My disguise was flawless. My eyes rolled as he looked at my chest, where the surface should have been flat, two small, prominent curves were protruding from my dress. Clearing my throat, his eyes darted up and I quirked a thin eyebrow at him. 

Ray glanced away briefly but turned back to speak to me, “So uh, Gerard... Um-“

I cut him off, “You’re going to tell me how it’s dangerous to be dressed like this aren’t you?”

“Well, yeah. If they catch you, you’ll get arrested and they’ll lock you up in an institute and put you through that shock therapy thing. I don’t want to lose you okay? I lost Christa already, I don’t want to lose anyone else.”

“Ray... you are not going to lose me, I swear. Besides, if I came back dressed as myself, everyone would ridicule me again. I got caught drinking when I was eighteen, you know that but what I didn’t tell you was that I was arrested while wearing lipstick and got beat up by the cops, called a faggot more than a few times. I barely got away, I almost died. If I show my bare face again, I’m just going to get beat up and humiliated again. I could die,” my hands shook as I spoke, head bowed. 

He was silent for a moment. “I’m-I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I just don’t want you to get hurt, killed or taken away,” was all he said, looking to the side.” 

“Ray, look at me,” his head tilted towards me. “It’s not your fault, I should have known better than to walk into a public place, knowing damn well that I was breaking more than one rule. But now, I’m going to stay out of trouble if I can, lest an officer strips me of my disguise. I promise.”

“Alright,” he said but his eyes said different. He didn’t believe me. “I suppose you want me to refer to you as a lady?”

“Yes please and could you use a different name for me?”

“Of course, what name?”

I smiled, “Elizabeth, Elizabeth Short. Now, how about I make some coffee and we catch up on what you have been doing lately.”

~•~

It’s been six months and I’ve been adjusting. I took up a job at a local diner and made 40 cents an hour, enough to keep me housed and fed. The owners of the Florentine Gardens were allowing me to rent out a room in the back and offered to knock off a couple dollars, their treat. 

The plate on top of my hand hit the table with a small, muted ‘clink!’ and the gentleman who had ordered it winked at me and dug into his pancakes. I smiled, bowed my head a bit and walked over to a different table, setting down the boiling cup of coffee. I ignored the muttering from that table as I went to an empty table, cleaned up the dirty dishes and wandered back to the kitchen. The door shut behind me and I placed the porcelain in the soapy water, sighing. My friend and coworker Lindsey glances over at me and smiled sympathetically. 

“Let me guess, table four is giving you hassle?” She asked, scrubbing the plates I’d just dropped in the sink. 

“Yeah, the whispers about me are getting to my head. Are they always like that?”

“Yes, they usually come in at 11 but since you don’t work during the night, so you don’t see them. They’re all fat-heads, assholes if you will.”

I giggled, “Oh I can see.”

Winking, she put the plates back and turned to face me, resting her right hip against the wooden countertop. “So, what are your plans this evening? Going out with your handsome fella?”

Before I answered, the cook motioned to me, beckoning me over to grab the food. 

“Thank you handsome.” I said to him then looked at Lindsey, “All that I am telling you is I’m going to San Diego for a few days.”

She squealed and bounced on the balls of her feet, tripping a bit over her small heels and long pencil skirt. I simply grinned fondly and continued with my work. 

~•~

The car door slammed behind me and a kiss was laid on my cheek. I hummed and returned the gesture, softly laughing when I saw the red stain on his cheek. 

“Hiya handsome,” I said giddily, pecking his lips. 

Frank just grinned and kissed me back, locking our lips with passion. A gentle moan left my mouth before I pushed him away, playfully batting at his chest. “Oh my, I appreciate the hell of a greeting but I’m not necking and petting in the car love, that’s a bedroom activity.”

“Ah well, I tried. We’re stopping by your place to grab clothes, cosmetics and hygiene products right?”

“Yep! Now, you never told me, where in San Diego are we going?”

His hazel eyes twinkled when he looked at me, “I figured we’d get a hotel for a few nights, wander the place. Maybe spend some time on the beach.”

“Mmm, sounds wonderful.” I kissed his cheek once more and we were off.

The drive to Florentine Gardens was filled with idle chatter, his brow furrowing when I informed him of the rude remarks made towards me at work. I quickly reassured him however and he told me about the young man who yelled at him earlier. We joked, laughed, made each other smile. 

I excuse myself to go get my belongings from my room. Five minutes later, I was lugging a large bag filled my clothes and makeup. Without them, I’d be Gerard Way again and nobody wanted to see him; they’d much rather have Elizabeth Short, the lovable, flirty and charming lady with a beautiful face. All the men wanted her and all the women wanted to be her. 

I was back in the dark car with Frank, pushing my bag to the back seat where his resided. Frank’s hand reaches out and turned on the radio, Frank Sinatra’s smooth, melodic voice drifting from the small machine. Frank began to sing along, and although it was a dreadful noise, it was endearing. 

I stared out of the window, watching the colors pass by. Time flew faster and the next thing I knew, I was out of LA and in San Diego. It was similar to home, filled with buildings and people but the atmosphere was different. I couldn’t tell what it was but it certainly didn’t feel like Los Angeles. It was nice.

The car tumbled to a stop, the door opened by Frank who gathered our bags and held the front door open for me. When I asked, he refused to let me help, “Could I at least carry my handbag?”

The straps were placed in the palm of my hand but that was all I got. He pressed the bell once and a short man came walking in, writing down the information Frank gave him and handing us the key to our room. A single queen-sized bed and a bathroom, perfect for us. 

Frank placed our bags on top of the chest at the foot of the bed, glancing back at me. He wrapped an arm around my corseted waist, pulling me closer to him. 

“What do you say we go out and explore?” He murmured quietly. 

I eagerly agreed, dragging him out of the door as fast as my heels could take me. I was in amazement at all the sights, noises and smells. We went to the beach first, walking along the sand and treading in the water, the sharp cold licking at our legs and feet. After a while, we went to eat dinner, watching the sun set, red and orange washing the diner in blinding, colorful light. 

I washed off my makeup in the hotel bathroom, incredibly thankful for my naturally feminine face. I slipped into a nightgown and laid beside Frank, dozing off in his arms. 

The next two days were the same, us exploring, enjoying ourselves and having an amazing time. The night before we were to head home to Los Angeles, the bathroom door wasn’t locked and was cracked open a bit but I didn’t let it bother me. 

Frank seemed off when I joined him in bed. I couldn’t pinpoint it but again, didn’t think much of it and promptly fell asleep. On the car ride back, the strange behavior continued; he wouldn’t look me in the eyes, wouldn’t kiss my lips and any time I asked a question, he’d respond snappishly. 

I quietly thanked him when he dropped me off at the Biltmore Hotel, him driving off as soon as I was at the doors. I went in and immediately went for the lobby telephone, dialing my younger brother’s number. He picked up after the third ring.

“Hello, Mikey Way speaking?”

“Hi Mikey, it’s me, Gerard. Just asking when you’d be here for lunch.”

“Like I said before, two o’clock like we planned. I’ll be there in about four hours, I love you Gee,” his staticky voice chirped.

“Love you too Mikes,” I responded, smiling, before placing the phone back. 

I went about my day, picking up a few hours at work to keep me busy. Before I knew it, time had passed and I was at the station, waiting for Mikey. As soon as he stepped off the train, he was in my arms, swaying with me as we embraced. 

“Mikey! You’re finally here!” I exclaimed joyfully. 

He smirked, taking in my appearance. “You look gorgeous.”

“Why thank you, don’t look so bad yourself. Should we head to the cocktail lounge I promised to take you to?”

Mikey nodded and we were off. We sat at a table near the windows, sipping on beverages and chatting about our lives. He and his fiancé were getting married in June, in a church with an outdoor after party. I expressed my excitement and accepted the invitation to the event. Eventually, evening began to set and he had to leave, us parting ways at the station.

I walked back to my place, a slight feeling I’ve unease washing over me. Goosebumps rose on my arms as I glanced around. Something collided with the side of my head, causing my vision to turn to black.

~•~

Frank stood outside of his car, cigarette between his lips as he stared at his masterpiece. Elizabeth, or rather Gerard, was laying in the vacant lot, naked and severed in half, ghostly pale and organs spilling out of his upper half. The incisions on Gerard’s cheeks made Frank grin, copying the wounds. 

Out of his peripheral vision, a person was watching him. Frank panicked and got back into his car, driving off as fast as he could go. 

Later that morning, a mother and daughter would find Gerard while on their way to buy some shoes. The mother would think the corpse was an abandoned mannequin until closer inspection where she’d scream and call the police. The murder would be all over the news, people searching for the killer everywhere but they wouldn’t find him. 

An autopsy report said that it was cerebral hemorrhaging that ended Gerard’s life, that the incisions and wounds had been created post-mortem. The body had been completely drained of blood, hence why the mother thought that he was a mannequin. 

The case was deemed ‘The Black Dahlia Murder’, people everywhere wanting to find out who killed Gerard Way or the Black Dahlia. But they never did. Frank was never caught.

**Author's Note:**

> After a long while, this is finally finished! Please let me know if there’s any inaccuracies as I want this to be as accurate as possible. I’ve reworked really hard on this and really hope you enjoy it! If you did, lemme know what you think! <3
> 
> (Also posted on Wattpad under the same name ^_^)


End file.
